Brothers
by fantasy elf queen
Summary: Meet Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester,1st Lieutenant and 1st Sergeant of the 101st Airborne,Follow their journey from Normandy to Hitler's Eagle's Nest.Their love and pain and loss,a regiment of soldiers who faced an entire war on the front,these Band of Brothers.
1. Chapter 1

**M for language, violence, gore and future m scenes. Pairings Dean/Cas. I'm not going to write any of the real men in lemons or in any fake relationships, I love gay guys and especially to write stories about them but I feel an incredibly great respect for these men and my stomach gets a bit queasy at disrespecting their memory that way. I'm going to try and keep this as accurate as possible. Any quotes directly from the Band of Brothers book I'll note and I'm a history girl(going to be a history major) so facts are going to be accurate. And then I'll throw in our two favorite boys and sweeten the deal! (Oh and Cas will be there too!)**

Some gave…and some gave all; words spoken by many but understood by few. Not many can comprehend the pain, the loss. Giving all didn't mean giving your life, giving all was having your life stripped away from you, leaving nothing but an empty broken shell behind. They took your body, your sanity, your very Goddamn soul. Hell compared to that, you wished for death, you laid there, staring at the sky as the whole damn world crumbled to ash around you, people, civilizations, all reduced to the burned skeleton silhouette of a world turned to hell itself.

My story perhaps isn't completely unique. I wasn't the only one trapped in this purgatory. You could say there were millions of us, an entire army of zombie men broken to hallow eyed monsters with a purpose to kill or be killed. They talk about the honor, the glory, what we gave to protect what we believed in. Maybe I had believed in something to begin with, I think we all did. Bright eyed youth hell bent on an adventure to save the world they didn't have a clue how to save. We were ignorant, hopeful, convinced, believed with the very essence of our souls we would win.

But when you've been laying on your belly for so long you can't remember what your own mother's face looks like; wallowing in the filth, shit and misery of men God long ago turned his back against, your soul, your beliefs, everything you once stood for and fought for washes away in the mud and blood.

I slowly made my way through a long ago worn hallway to pass a picture on most days I paid no mind; maybe from the anger, the loss, deep down it just hurt too damn much to acknowledge most of the time. A black and white photograph of those men, some smiling so large it was a wonder the camera didn't break. Many had arms slung around other's shoulders, many were wrapped in wrapping and bandages and balancing on one leg or holding an arm carefully. Many were laughing, after all, the photographer had been such a pretty thing, clean and blonde with cherry red lips, she was home. But through the smiles and laughs and carefree stances you could see the pain and misery and longing just for it all to end in everyone's eyes.

My eyes lingered over two figures on the upper left, one of shorter stature and a thin frame with eyes haunted and a hallow face, my own eyes stared back at me. But to my side and slightly behind my frame was the thin willowy frame of Castiel Novak giving a rare half smile although he looked sad. I closed my eyes and grimaced as an entire floodgate of memories washed over me, some painful, some good, but all of them, began with the 101st Airborne, 506th Regiment, E company.

"_From this day to the ending of the World, we in it shall be remembered, we band of brothers." ~William Shakespeare_

**So I realize as an opening chapter that may have been a bit heavy and miserable but this isn't going to be a story of sunshine and daisies. I'm sure you've guessed, this is being based off of Band of Brothers, I might leave some characters out, I'm going to add in some Supernatural main characters. This story is going to contain slash, rated M for language, some pretty morbid gore and violence and lemons in possible later chapters.**

**Updates aren't going to be often, I'm in school and I'm pretty busy, I update when I write a new chapter, not a set schedule. This most definitely isn't my first fanfiction although my profile is blank because I wiped it. I got tired of people's crap and I honestly got sick of my own shitty writing from several years ago. I vowed to not write anymore on fanfic, but alas when a good story grabs you it grabs you.**

**This first chapter is real short but I wanted to throw it out there as just a teaser and see what you guys think of it before I turn this into a big story.**

**Review and tell me what you think!**


	2. Camp Toccoa

**Here's another shorter one. But before I really started off the story with dialogue and actually getting the plot on a roll I wanted to lay out the basics. This lays the foundation for Easy Company and their combat training. Italics are direct quotes from either the book or interviews with the real men.**

**Might I also mention after starting to rewatch BOB, which I haven't done since watching Supernatural, a couple years I realized something… a great amazing phenomenal realization!Richard Speight Jr. who plays are beloved Trickster/Gabriel plays Sgt. Warren Skip Muck. My day is made that I can combine these two characters!**

We men of Easy Company were a strange lot of men. We were all from different parts of the country, different backgrounds. Some of us were farmers, coal miners, mountain men or cotton pickers from the Deep South. Some of us couldn't afford to rub two pennies together, others came from Harvard, one from Yale, some were Jews, some were Catholics, some didn't don't know what the hell they were.

We all came together in the hot summer of 1942; the war had been raging in Europe for three years already. We had all volunteered for the paratroopers, some said for the thrill, others the $50 extra we received each month. We knew we were going into combat and we didn't want to be standing by the poor trained ground troops, we would travel by way of the air. Any of us could say we'd rather look up to the man standing beside us rather then not trusting the soldier beside you.

We were a hardened lot you could say, we'd all lived your childhoods through the depression, we knew what hard times were. Hell I had never had a radio of my own until joining the paratroopers. We knew what worn shoes felt like, ragged clothes and most times more often then not, never enough to eat. But we were a self-reliant bunch, used to hard work and taking orders with a sense of self confidence and worth that laid the foundations for the best men I would ever know.

We didn't know much about the airborne except that it was all volunteer and new. I was told the physical training would be harder than anything the normal army would ever go through. We were an experimental outfit, the first parachute infantry regiment where the men would take their basic training and their jump training together. In the end it took us a year to become part of the Screaming Eagles, to finish our harsh training.

Our training took place at camp Toccoa Georgia. In the beginning we had 132 men and eight officers. We were divided into three platoons and a headquarters section. There were three twelve-man rifle squads plus a six-man mortar team squad to a platoon. Easy had one machine-gun to each of the rifle squads, and a 60 mm mortar in each mortar team. There weren't many of the original men at that camp that made it through.

Now let me tell you about camp Toccoa, hell on earth in any of our opinion. No matter how bad live combat got; I don't think one of us would have chosen to go back to the armpit of the world. At the beginning of the first day we were ordered to run the three miles to the top of Currahee and then the other three back down. What the boys called the mountain but was more of a hill really. We lost men that first day. Within a week we were double timing the entire way up and down.

At the end of the second week I'll always remember, we were told to relax, that we wouldn't have any runs that day before we were taken into the mess hall for a huge meal of spaghetti. After coming out of the mess hall a whistle blew and we were told the orders changed, we would run. We ran Currahee with men vomiting spaghetti everywhere. I'll always remember the burning as I emptied my entire stomach over the side of the road. We ran ashen faced and heaving and spewing, but we ran just the same.

We were told that Currahee was and Indian word that meant "We stand alone," it was the way we were supposed to fight, supposed to live by. It became the battle cry of the 506th regiment. We ran Currahee 3 to 5 times a week in under an hour. We went through grueling obstacles and exercises. When we weren't exercising they were teaching us how to be soldiers. We started making night marches with full field equipment. Our first night march was eleven miles and every march afterwards they tacked on another mile or so.

We didn't stop for rest or water and misery can't quite cover how terrible we all felt. The only ones of us that made it though had a determination, this constant push that shoved back at whatever those officers gave us.

When we got our rifles we were told to treat them like we'd treat our wife. It was ours to have and to hold. I got so accustomed to my own gun I could have taken it apart, cleaned it and snapped it back together in 5 minutes in the dark. We only got rest from the exercises when we got lectures on weapons, map and compass reading, infantry tactics, codes, signaling, field telephones, radio equipment, switchboard and wire stringing, demolitions.

But I think the biggest thing we learned was unquestioned and immediate obedience. Any infraction was punished whether by hitting the floor for 50 pushups or having our weekend pass stripped from us. The army had a saying "We can't make you do anything, but we can make you wish you had."

And through our pain, our misery we became a unit. Within days of formations we would make a one-quarter or one-half turn as one. We could do anything in unison, not one man out of beat. We drank; we cussed enough to make the founding fathers roll in their graves. We sang soldiers' songs and fought like a pack of wolves. After a hard night of drinking someone would slander someone else's mother or religions and a brawl would break out leaving us bloody and bruised and afterwards we'd carry each other back to our barracks as this thing, this comradeship began to form.

_The result of these shared experiences was a closeness unknown to all outsiders._ Comrades are closer than friends, closer than brothers. _Their relationship is different from that of lovers. Their trust in, and knowledge of, each other is total. They got to know each other's life stories, what they did before they came into the Army, where and why they volunteered, what the liked to eat and drink, what their capabilities were. On a night march they would hear a cough and know who it was; on a night maneuver they would see someone sneaking through the woods and know who it was from his silhouette._

Any of us would have gone hungry for one another and the entire squad would have bailed the other out without regard for our consequences and all the while we would cuss them to hell and back for making us do it. You only that kind of loyalty, comradeship when the world has gone to hell and you're willing to die for one another.

Within a year of our training all thirteen sergeants in our Easy company came from original privates, including me.

There was 1st Sgt. William Evans, S. Sgts. James Diel, Salty Harris, Myron Ranney, Leo Boyle, Hill Guarnere, Carwood Lipton, John Martin and Robert Rader. No matter what shit we took and gave each other, there was always this underlying mutual feeling of respect, knowing we would all follow each other anywhere. Out of all the officers I can say Castiel Novak was of the highest integrity and the most loved.

He was friendly, genuinely interest in the well being of his men. Most amusing was of what a God fearing man he was. He was shy, wouldn't say a wrong thing about no but he was stoic and intelligent. _He was an officer who got the men to perform because he expected nothing but the best and you like him so much you just hated to let him down. _We men of easy company worshipped him.

I think the only problem Cas ever had was 1st Lieutenant Dick Roman. He was tall, slim and had a head of thick black hair. He had beady eyes and a large hooked nose. He had previously been a politician and didn't know a damn thing about the outdoors. He was uncoordinated and the worst athlete out of all of us, in fact he was the most out of shape man in the entire Regiment. He was a tyrant put into a position of power that he used over all of us. If he didn't like a man he would flunk him for any infraction real or imagined.

He was cruel. On Saturday morning inspections if he had taken a particular dislike to some poor bugger he'd mark him down for dirty ears and take the entire companies' weekend passes away. If a man was late Sunday night he'd tell him to di foot pit and after he finished he was told to fill it back in. He was determined we'd be the best in the whole damn regiment. We drilled longer, ran faster, trained harder. When we ran up Currahee Dick was at the front flapping his arms about like some possessed bird.

We would stand for hours listening to him scream, spit flying, as he had a conniption over imagined infractions till everything was beyond words perfect. I hated that man more than I ever hated any German. He was the classic chickenshit. He made everyone's' lives worse than they had to be by petty harassment. Sure Dick had the authority over all of us, the yellow bellied bastard, but Castiel had all of our respect.

Dick resented Cas from the first week at Toccoa. The man had no common sense or judgment. He couldn't read a map if it had screamed the damned coordinates out to him. When out in the field he'd turn to his X.O and ask where we were. He made decisions without thinking and they were always wrong. We all knew he was going to get us killed out in the field. Funny thing was, what brought E Company together was 1st Lieutenant Dick Roman, but dear God we all hated that man.

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	3. Jump Training

**This should not have taken so long to write and post XP. But I was planning on rewatching BOB before I began actually writing the story but I can't seem to steal it from my brother in law!Plus it was the holidays and I started my job last month so I've been majorly busy!**

**Important-This was originally supposed to be a Dean & Sam story but I tried writing the next few chapters experimentally and I couldn't get the feel for the two and I repeatedly kept coming back to Dean & Cas because I love those two and as I thought about plot and lots of stuff I want to do, plus the overall feel of it I decided to switch no one is too terribly heartbroken. I know more ship Dean/ Cas anyways.**

Dean

After a year of harsh training at Toccoa under the hellish leadership of Dick Roman we made our way to Fort Benning .If possible I think fort Benning was worse than Toccoa. We were all excited to be in actual jump school instead of just doing exercise and ground training. We were supposed to start with physical training(A stage) before moving onto B, C, and D stages that each lasted a week long but the 506th skipped a stage.

This happened because our regiment arrived early, went into A stage and embarrassed the jump school sergeants who were in charge of leading our calisthenics and runs. Us Toccoa graduates would laugh at the sergeants as we ran backwards and challenged them to races. I remember private Gabriel Muck asking a wheezing sergeant after three hours of drill runs when we were going to get past the warm-ups and to the real stuff.

After two days of our abuse the sergeants told the C.O that we, the 506th, were in much better physical condition than them so all companies of the 506th immediately jumped to B stage. We learned how to fold our parachutes and started jumping into sawdust piles and then controlled jumps with wind machines. We moved up till finally we were ready for D stage.

The night before I remember packing and repacking my chute and checking it three times before repacking it again nervously. We were loaded 24 onto a plane. I remember Ash Luz pissing so many times I lost count and Guarnere chain smoking an entire pack. We were told to look at the horizon and not the ground for obvious reasons before the green light came on and we jumped out one by one.

Before the jump we stood all in a line hooked onto a line and we'd unhook before jumping out. My breath caught and I think I left my stomach in the plane as I plummeted out the door. We weren't jumping too high so you were supposed to instantly pull your chute and my heart slowed a little when it came out like it was supposed to. My mind was blank and as Webster had said, my heart popped into my mouth.

For a couple of minutes the skies above the jump fields were filled with whooping and screaming high spirited troopers. Most of us had been so psyched I think we'd have jumped out without our chutes.

_Standing in that open door was an obvious moment of truth. Men who had been outstanding in training, men who later won medals for bravery in combat as ordinary infantry, would freeze._

Sometimes men were given second chances but most of the time they weren't and even if they were they wouldn't jump. We only had two men not jump, one whom was Joe Ramirez and he told me the second the plane had passed over the field he'd yelled for them to pull back around so he could jump. That took more guts than jumping the first time.

We jumped again that evening and again on Christmas Eve. We had Christmas off though and we all sat down for a big turkey meal. It was my first Christmas away from home. I was born in Astoria Oregon and my family had seen hard times. My father was a drunk and my mother the best there ever was. I had two siblings, one John Jr. and the other Adam. John was only 10, thank God too young for the army but Adam had joined the air force last year much to my mother's horror, he was only seventeen, I was 20.

After Pearl Harbor I'd gone to enlist in the Marines but was turned down for some damned dental issue that I didn't even know I had. I joined the army because I sucked at math even though I was attending University of Oregon at the time and later I joined the Airborne. If I looked back I could say it was fate, when I was a kid I'd jumped from our roof with an umbrella and remarkably not killed myself or broken anything vital.

I'd had a girlfriend that I'd been dating for three years, Lisa, but I broke it off soon after I'd gone into college. It was a stupid thing to do since I'd loved her more than anything but I was young and stupid.

December 26th we made our last jump and finally earned our wings. On that day Colonel Singer held a parade for us. I can still remember his speech…

"_You are a member of one of the finest regiments in the United States Army and consequently in the world."_

We were sent on a ten day furlough to go home. My mother cried since I'd decided to be an ass and make my visit a surprise. I wore my uniform proudly, the badge of the screaming eagle worn on my chest and I wore my pants bloomed inside my boots instead of "straight legged" like the infantry.

I was elite; we men of Easy were elite. Not only were the paratroopers within the airborne elite but so was the 506th and within that Easy Company was the best out of all nine companies that made up the battalion. It wasn't just me saying that either.

I'd complained to Muck almost a year into combat that Easy was always at the front taking direct fire or at the rear always exposed to the enemy. We were the 5th company making up a regiment of 9 and under normal circumstances we would have been in the middle. But because we were the best we were the only company exposed at all times. Of course none of us shit heads had realized it then, that headquarters viewed us like that, we'd just thought we had shit luck and someone high up hated us. At the end of the war when we'd discovered the real crap going down most of us had sat in a sort of stunned realization.

After heading back to camp after my 10 day leave we packed up and moved out to Camp Mackall in North Carolina which was home to Airborne Command. Our training intensified, we didn't just jump with rifles but with all of our gear. We had two to three day exercises in the woods, most at night with focus on quick troop movements and operating behind enemy lines.

Now I have to stop a moment and maybe explain just one of the reasons why Easy got a leg up starting off as the best trained and in Shape Company. Sure Easy was made of the finest men and the greatest officers but as much as I hated Dick Roman more than any other human alive he made Easy.

While other companies were training normal and taking regular night runs and training exercises Roman was beating our asses into the dust. He'd make us take night exercise movements and hikes twice as hard, twice as long, twice as fast and twice as often as the other companies. We trained more at night then in the day so that Ash claimed he could "see better in the fuckin' dark than I can in the damned day!"

Oh God how we hated him for it. To this day I sneer at the thought of Dick Roman, he was shit and we loathed him, but our hatred of Roman bonded Easy closer together than any other company. We'd already seen hell and we'd never been into live combat.

On Field exercises some of us were designated as stimulated casualties so the medics could practice on us. This was the first time I ever met Sam Roe, Easy Company's new Medic. They were evacuating us "injured" ones on litters and so forth. God how I hated that term, injured was fell and broke somethin' or cut yourself chopping damn vegitables, what us sorry bastards were was wounded.

I first realized I liked Sam a whole damn lot when he came over to where I was laying, I was supposed to have a busted up leg full of mortar and shell shrapnel. He grinned at me and gave me a shot of real morphine that didn't wear off till that night. He had a mischievous streak and since I was already trippy on pain meds I was howling my ass off when he and one of his med buddies put Roman under a real anesthetic, pulled down his pants, and made a real incision stimulating an appendectomy. Those two sewed him back up and bound it with bandages and surgical tape then disappeared.

God he'd been furious, couldn't blame him on that one but he didn't get anywhere asking us who'd done it. Not one of us would tell him who the guilty medics were.

It was at Mackall that the entire battalion took the Army fitness test. The battalion scored 97 percent and as this was the highest score ever recorded some shit general from Washington thought Colonel Singer had rigged the score. So they had us run it a second time under direct observation…we scored 98 percent.

At the end of May we packed up our bags and headed down to Kentucky and Tennessee for combat training. On our way Red Cross girls met us with coffee and donuts. I remember Gabriel somehow managing to smooth talk nearly a dozen just for him. We pitched camp, made latrines and ate the army's favorite meal for us poor bastards in the field, cream chipped beef on toast, or as we liked to call it SOS or shit on a shingle.

It wasn't combat but it was as damned close as the army could get it. One night we made a jump into the backwoods. God it had been so hot in that C-47, all the muggy warm air currents making the plane sweltering and nauseating. Bull Randleman in the back farthest from the door got sick from the rocking motions from the hot air and lost his lunch into his helmet. God then Buck in front of him puked in his helmet and it literally worked its way up the line.

Not everyone managed to spew into their helmets, the floor was slippery with the shit and my stomach rebelled at the smell as I hurled into my own helmet. When the green light went on we were screaming for them to "MOVE, MOVE, FUCKIN MOVE!"

We spent weeks of late night marches through the southern woods and God was it miserable. We were hot and sweaty and itchy and tired. At the end of July we were through and moved on to Fort Bragg in North Carolina. There were hot showers, good beds and the food was great. It was obvious it was a staging area before sending us overseas.

We didn't know where we were going, the European, Mediterranean or Pacific Theater? Gossiping and rumors became a popular past time during that period. By this time we had all found our closest friends in Easy. Mine were Gabriel Muck, Ash Luz and Sam Roe although Sam wasn't around as much bein' a medic and all.

At this point I wasn't close to Lieutenant Castiel Novak although I had a deep respect for the man none could compare to. I would have gladly laid my life down for him although before combat I couldn't remember ever talking to him that much. He was quiet although he ate and lived with the men far more than his superiors thought proper of his rank. He didn't drink alcohol which his closest friend Lewis Nixon thought highly insane. Lewis was one of Easy's only rich boys, his dad owned some big company and he was a graduate from Yale…he was also an alcoholic, but a damn likable one.

Soon before we were to leave Muck got a hold of some whiskey. Now damn none of us had ever had any whisky, I'd only ever had beer and that was after going to college. Christenson got so drunk he was "making out with the toilet". Somehow I can remember that night and some of Muck, Luz, and Guarnere and my antics. I remember Muck slurring at a newspaper he was somehow reading.

"Hey whatcha readin' Muck?"

"I'm readin' why were at war!"

"Really, what does it say?"

He slurred out a laugh."It says here that the Germans are bad...very bad."

I made a face to show I thought it seemed legitimate before elbowing Luz. "Hey Luz, did you know that the Germans are bad!"

We took a train to New York and with that we knew we'd be headed to the European Theater. We were crammed onto a transport like sardines meant to carry 1,000 passengers. There were 5,000 of us. And so we set off for England.

**That also took a reallllly long time to write because believe me, almost every single thing in this is accurate. I'd like to note that every little story in this chapter came from the BOB book. I hope you liked them, I laugh my ass off every time I read about all those poor guys puking into their helmets. And some medics really did put Herbert Sobel(Dick Roman's real character) under anesthetics and gave him an appendectomy.**

**In a way I feel sorry for Sobel. He was a real ass but every man in Easy company hated that man's guts, several of them said they'd shoot him in combat. He did make them good soldiers.**

**Dean Winchester-His character represents the real man Sergeant Donald Malarkey. Dean's past is Malarkey's real history, his dad was a drunk and he was from Oregon with two siblings, one who was named John. Adam was an embellishment and I don't know if either sibling was in the army. Malarkey also went to U.I and went back after the war. He also broke up with a serious girlfriend and regretted it.**

**Castiel Novak-His character represents the real man (the eventual Major) but at the beginning 1****st**** Lieutenant Richard Winters. As of yet my descriptions of him are the literal descriptions that Easy men used in interviews to describe Winters.**

**Gabriel Muck-His character represents the real man Sgt. Warren H. Muck who was from New York and good friends with Donald Malarkey. Also Richard Speight Jr. plays both Gabriel and Muck, a coincidence I'm thrilled over.**

**Ash Luz-Character represents the real man George Luz who was best friends with Muck and Malarkey**

**Sam Roe-Character represents the real man Eugene Roe who was from Louisiana and Easy's medic**

**Lewis Nixon-real man,best friends with Richard Winters, graduated from Yale, was an alcoholic and rich**

**Dick Roman-Real man was Herbert Sobel, all info on him is real although he wasn't a politician. Easy men hated him and was often described as chickenshit.**

**Review and tell me what you think! I'm really starting to like this and I hope you are to, I haven't been able to get too deep yet or get in a lot of dialogue but I had to lay the ground work. Within the next chapter or possibly the one after they will be seeing live combat, first drop was D-day.**


	4. D-Day

**I finally got to start rewatching BOB. Took long enough but damn it doesn't exist to watch on the internet. I guess I'm finally getting into the juicy stuff, I really haven't had the chance to actually creatively write too much yet since I've been laying basic information and history down but getting to watch episode one inspired me. **

** Anywho…I need some feedback people! Tell me what you think!Even if it's one sentence I don't even know what anyone thinks of this! So if you like it, hell if you don't like it please take the time to jot out a quick opinion, it helps writers more than anything if they can only get some feedback.**

1st Lieutenant Castiel Novak

The air was a collective choking mass of cigarette smoke, nervous sweat and fear. I sat on the floor of our C-47 while the plane shuddered and jerked and tossed us all about like balls in a lottery machine. A freezing wind that cut through my uniform whipped from behind me, shooting in through the open door.

I noticed Ash Luz across from me taking a deep pull from his cigarette before releasing a wisp of smoke since his lips were shaking so bad. It would have been deadly silent if it weren't for the roar of the engine and the distant booms of our destination. The clouded midnight sky flashed and crackled with light as if we were in the middle of a gargantuan lighting storm.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of the frigid air before giving my men a brief glance. Some of them were chain smoking, some were staring wide eyed at nothing and everything, and some of their eyes were heavy lidded or closed from the air sickness pills Doc Roe had given us. Didn't know who's genius plan that was, not one of us ever got airsick, but it did knock the nervous ones out.

Wide glinting eyes would meet mine rimmed in smeared black from the grease paint we'd covered ourselves in like Indians. I could feel my own necking prickling from the paint and sweat mingling and running down my skin in rivulets. My eyes combed over the sprawled figures before meeting Dean Winchester's calm gaze.

Now there was a funny one, I didn't know much about him, we'd never seemed to cross paths, he didn't play any sports back at training camps and even though he'd just been promoted to Sergeant I could only account speaking to him once or twice…one being back in Aldbourne England; I struggled to keep an idiot smile off my face at the memory.

He wasn't quiet like me or some of the rare few in the company. In fact I would say he was one of the loudest, him and Muck were a pair to be sure. He was what Nix would call a rakish bastard, of course that was what Nix called himself so I never could quite know how to take it. Out of all the starting privates at Toccoa he was perhaps the most peculiar.

I had joined the army a couple years previous, back when you only had to stay for a year so I could avoid the draft…that is until Pearl Harbor and any discharges were no longer permitted. I chose to attend Officers Candidate school at Fort Benning Georgia, which is where I met Nix, God knows how I ever became friends with him. After graduating and being commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant I stumbled upon the paratroopers and was deeply impressed with the program and the men it would require…so that led me to Toccoa.

Dean was indeed rakish, he joked a lot and would have slept around even more if the army had permitted it. How he'd always loved the girls. But behind his entire bravado of charm and comedy he held a spark that even all the men in Easy didn't have. Most were here for the extra 50 bucks but as time had worn on it was to prove something to everyone around them and to themselves. It was difficult to explain the level of duty and honor my men started to believe in and uphold.

But Dean, he'd come into the army believing in something. Oh years later when you'd ask him he'd spew a bull excuse about 50 extra dollars and a boyish curiosity of jumping out of a plane but you could ask anyone that really knew him. Deep down, more than most, possibly more than any other, he wasn't just here to fight a war or kill some Jerrys or even because his country needed him, he believed in this greater cause.

And maybe that extra something, that extra hope and belief in the world that he never admitted to anyone, not even himself, even though we all knew it for him gave him something more. It gave him an extra drive, he tried harder, worked more, and I think he felt harder than some even. The result of this was…Dean Winchester was the best damn soldier I'd ever seen.

We all knew it but him; they all wanted Dean Winchester by their sides. Besides Shifty he was the best shot in the whole regiment. He had the best aim, the clearest head, and the best soldier's mentality. He knew just how hard to push, and how hard to pull, he was the best person to convince anyone of anything, all the while making them think they'd thought of it themselves.

I was brought back to the present by an especially violent shudder and blinked at Dean's shadowed face. He didn't look serene, I'd question his mental well being if he did, but he looked calm, his dark green eyes glinted softly in the light yet his jaw was held in a determined…almost purposeful expression.

He gave me a quirked half grin.

"Doin' alright sir?"

"Doing just fine Winchester, how about you?"

"Alright I suppose, gotta piss somethin' awful though."

I snorted, closed my eyes and slammed my head back on the wall behind me. The plane continued to jolt and rattle; the flashes and screams of missiles and mortar growing louder and ever closer. My stomach gave a twist as nausea worked its way up my throat at the violent motions of the plane and my own nerves.

So much could go wrong; there were so many what ifs and scenarios I didn't want to think about. I wasn't even worried about me so much, maybe a slight twinge of nerves, but I was terrified for my men. My loyal brave Easy Company. I continuously shoved the impending thought that it was impossible for all of us to make it out of this alive.

I took a deep breath, ignored my worry for Nix, for everyone and let my mind drift in thought…

10 Months Earlier

"Cas, I swear man you gotta try this!"

I glanced over at Nix's sprawled form. He was haphazardly lying across his cot and pulling deep gulps from his bottle of British Whiskey. I twisted my mouth in distaste and made a noncommittal noise.

"Even if I did drink…that looks revolting."

His mouth popped off the rim as he squinted at the label along the body of the bottle before he grimaced slightly.

"I've had better; at least it's not ale." He practically went green at the thought. I'd only seen Nix turn down alcohol once, which was after taking a long draft of Scottish ale before spewing it over the counter in revolted disgust.

"I need to round up the men for tonight's march."

He cast me a vaguely interested glance."Can't you give those poor bastards a break?"

"I would…but you know Roman."

His face twisted into an unattractive sneer."Yeah…Roman."

God, I didn't even want to remind myself about him. I was usually a tolerant man but in the name of all that's Holy Dick Roman was beyond the line of what I could handle.

Things were proceeding as normal. We were all acclimating to both English climate and its people. Three days out of the week we were marching, making night excursions. Once a week or so we would go on a two to three day exercise. The problems were designed to give us a working knowledge of the mechanics of combat but to teach us the most basic thing an infantry man should know.

And so we grew to know the English countryside. We attacked hills and towns…dug countless foxholes and lived in them through any weather, rain or shine, hunger and every other discomfort. There was a lot of night work, which drew us together more intimately. It came to the point where I could recognize a man in the dark not just from his gate but from the way he wore his helmet or slung his rifle.

This would have been a good time, a period of harsh training but a respite with weekend passes for the men. There was a popular saying with the Brits,"the problem with you yanks is that you're overpaid, oversexed and over here." To which my men would jauntily reply. "The problem with you Limeys is that you're underpaid, undersexed and under Eisenhower."

It was horrifying, the way those boys tore the English countryside apart with their fighting and whoring around. Wartime England was a sight to behold. It was a good time, all except for Dick Roman. We were all used to his usual "chickenshit" as the men called it but what was starting to recently worry us officers, 's and…well…everyone was Roman's horrifying military tactics.

Roman had made Easy Company as loathed as I was to admit; I hated the man more than most I think; but his blundering in the open field, his bull in the china shop approach to tactical techniques that worried me most. Not one man in the entire company wanted to be under that man in battle. He was dangerous; there was no other word for it.

It was like going under the leadership of a boy playing army. There was no sense to him whatsoever. He couldn't read a map, always had the company or his platoon not even on the right grid on a map! He would literally walk straight into ambushes that the simplest soldier knew how to avoid. But dear God he was the leader of Easy Company and we had to take orders, but we all knew those orders would get us killed in combat. And combat was coming soon, we could practically taste it.

My patience had finally reached its end with Roman when I received an official letter.

_Company E, 506__th__ PIR, 30 Oct.'43_

_Subject: Punishment under 104__th__ A[rticle of] W[ar]_

_To: 1__st__ Lt. C. J. Novak_

_You will indicate by indorsement [sic] below whether you desire punishment under 104__th__ AW or trial by Courts Martial for failure to inspect the latrine at 0945 this date as instructed by me._

_[Signed, with a grand flourish]_

_Richard M. Roman, Capt., Commanding._

I was furious, I couldn't quite explain the insane amount of control it took not to deck the guy, Courts Martial or not…he's also misspelled endorsement which bothered me more than it should have.

So I confronted Roman. I saluted.

"Captain, permission to speak sir."

I was given permission.

"My orders were to inspect the latrine at 1000 hours sir."

"I changed that time to 0945."

"No one told me."

"I telephoned, and I sent a runner."

"The family I am staying with has no telephone and no runner ever found me."

God how I was simmering. I'd always made a point of no swearing nor drinking, it wasn't religion, just a moral standard I resisted deviating from. But at that moment I remember thinking darkly.

Why you Son of a Bitch…I ought to…

I typed him out an official letter stating I request punishment by Courts Martial. His response was a letter denying my 48 hour weekend pass and that I had to type an official letter appealing for Courts Martial.

In the meantime they were trying desperately to figure out a way to weasel out of my appeal. It was the principal of the matter, he knew I never used my weekend passes but it was the point of the matter.

Then I received another letter stating that I had failed to instruct Pvt. J. Mello in latrine duty. I threw my hands up, I give up, shoot me.

I replied that there was no excuse. The next day Singer decided to transfer me out of Easy to be battalions mess officer. Oh I never said anything, but God how I'd simmered. You only gave a job like that to a guy who couldn't do anything right.

But I bore the shame as best I could, I wanted to be out there leading my men but I couldn't do anything about it…until one day I stood there checking off a list for tomato sauce of all things while men unloaded a truck when I stopped curiously.

I noticed the straight back high shoulders of every Easy N.C.O officer exiting headquarters. They were tight lipped but they held their heads high. What in God's name had they been up to, there was no telling with the things they'd started in town; but as they passed each paused to snap me a smart salute and a respectful nod.

I inwardly wanted to hug them all. This position, the circumstances I'd befallen were humiliating yet they gave me this look I couldn't place. The very last to pass me was one Dean Winchester. He gave me a sly crooked grin before nodding his head and giving a textbook salute. I saluted them all in a daze wondering just what in the hell was going on.

It was later that day I discovered every Easy N.C.O officer had wrote a formal letter turning in their stripes saying they no longer wanted to serve in Easy. I was aghast, it was mutiny; they could have been Courts Marshaled and shot for it. They would have been, had we not been mounting a full on invasion and needed the men. But that wasn't so much why I was so…in aw I suppose.

I knew they'd done it not because turning in their stripes. They wanted to serve in Easy as much as I did…which was the point I suppose. They did it to make a stand and get Roman out of there, because they'd rather be Court Marshaled then go into Combat with Roman. And they did it…a little for me.

Major Singer had been furious, gave the boys hell for it. But in the end luck was on our side. The airborne had just opened a parachuting school and Roman was transferred there, being such an excellent trainer and all. I was transferred back into Easy.

1st Lieutenant Thomas Meehan was transferred in as our commanding officer and we were finally out of Roman's hands.

And with that passing tide came another, far greater one. We were receiving news, big news of a full on invasion being prepared.

We were briefed, a full mounted invasion on Normandy. Every man was to memorize the details of the attack and a map of the beaches and countryside. We took an aptitude test of sorts beforehand to make sure we could draw the map out from just memory. They were saying it would be the largest invasion in history. They were just calling it D-Day. A rather unimaginative name I thought considering that was military terms for any frontal invasion, the D just stood for Day, the day of all days I suppose.

On June 4th, the planned D-Day we were all so nervous. We packed each other's chutes, because we knew we'd be more careful with our best friend's then our own. But then we'd unpack and repack them. Then do it all over again. I packed Nix's chute 5 times before I forced myself to stop.

It was a last minute decision to add the leg bags. It seemed like a good idea, they hooked to your leg so you could carry twice as much of your ammo and various other needed provisions. We were so loaded down, carrying over 100 pounds of gear and ammunition. We all waited on the runways. Hundreds, thousands of men in full combat uniform.

But in the end it was delayed because of weather, we wouldn't be dropping tonight…tomorrow.

And so on June 5th 1944, it was D-Day, the day of all days.

I stood beside Nix while he chain smoked and took continuous gulps of his whiskey. I gave a slight smile when I could hear Ash Luz's voice carrying down as he impersonated Eisenhower giving his grand speech. A soldier from Dog company I didn't recognize passed Nix and I both papers with the speech printed on them.

Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force! You are about to embark upon a great crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers in arms on other fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world.

Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle hardened, he will fight savagely.

But this is the year 1944! Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940-41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle, man to man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our home fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men. The tide has turned! The free men of the world are marching together to victory!

I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full victory!

Good Luck! And let us all beseech the blessings of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking.

- **Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower**

My stomach kept clenching and unclenching all the while I ignored it. The night before we'd been given a full out meal with steak and ice-cream. I was glad I hadn't eaten so much before we were to fly.

As I began to usher the men into the C-47's I walked past a line of Limeys and stopped short to realize it was the first emotion I think I'd ever seen them give. They had tears in their eyes.

So we were loaded up, pushing and shoving to get ourselves onto the planes what with being so heavily loaded down. I popped my airsickness pills and the planes rumbled to life.

~oOo~

Once again I was jerked back to the present as the enemy fire suddenly increased to a deafening level. My eyes snapped open and I looked around, realizing I'd dozed off. Winchester gave me a wry smile as he took a long pull from his smoke.

Soon all I could hear was my own pounding pulse and the deafening screams and explosions of the bombs and fire. The red light came on and I yelled.

"Alright men stand up and hook up!" We stumbled and lurched as the plane positively shuddered and rumbled. We hooked ourselves onto the zip line and I gazed out the door with worry.

"And check your clips and straps!Now check off!"

"Ten ok!"

"Nine ok!"

"Eight ok!"

"Seven ok!"

"Six ok!"

"Five ok!"

"Four ok!"

"Three ok!"

"Two ok!"I watched as each man slapped the man in front of his shoulder before he yelled. I waited till Guarnere slapped my shoulder before yelling.

"One ok!"

The sky wasn't dark, the entire world was chaos. Lights flashed and guns went off and planes exploded. I noticed the faint silhouettes of troopers lunging out of planes and their parachutes ballooning. The men yelled and cursed as the plane barreled this way and that evading enemy fire.

I shook my head, we were too damn low, they needed to pull up damnit, we were too damn low!"

The men were screaming."LET'S GO!LET'S GO!FUCKIN MOVE!"

I screamed."Not until the green light!"

At that moment the green light flickered on and I yelled."Alright move!"

I braced my hands outside of the door and felt the blast of air and fire. My heart dropped to my toes as I lunged out the door and into the air that slapped at me. My parachute billowed out and I yanked back in the harness as an updraft caught me.

I cursed as I felt my leg bag snap and go plummeting, Godamnit!

But my attention quickly wavered to the mortar shells and explosions raining down around my head. The cool air was gentler now that I wasn't hurling out of a plane like superman. The entire world was on fire as the sky flashed and lit with light and everywhere around me…all I could see was raining paratroopers and blazing midnight sky.

**Well I sort of got some action in this chapter. No actual fighting yet but we're at least at D-Day. I found it more difficult to write Cas's point of view because I found myself leaning more towards Winter's pov. I have more of a decisive mental voice for Dean since I've written him quite a bit but this is my first time writing Cas.**

** I knew he would be different, this is WWII aggressive soldier Cas after all but it was still difficult. Anywhoo…I really liked this chapter but I want to know what you guys thought of it!**

**Please review and let me know what you thought!**


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